Jim Ingraham: Is the home run derby even that big a deal?

It's all-star weekend in the major leagues, and you know what that means: Home Run Derby! Listen to that crowd! Nobody doesn't like Home Run Derby because nobody doesn't like home runs — except for pitchers and really, really, bad hitters. Oh, yeah, and the Guardians aren't exactly home run aficionados, either. But if Major League Baseball ever decides to have a Weak Ground Ball to Second Base Derby, I like the Guards' chances. Home Run Derby has been around forever. It dates to the 1950s, when almost nobody hit home runs, for one of two reasons: It was too hard, or the players were lousy hitters. No, really. In 1918 the Indians finished in second place in the American League with a record of 73-54. That team hit nine home runs — total. That's right, nine home runs for the entire season. There was no Home Run Derby that year because almost nobody hit home runs. What they should have had in 1968 was a "Home Run? Are You Kidding Me Derby? In 1968 only one major league player hit over .300 — and just barely. Carl Yastrzemski hit .301. That's right. He won the batting tittle hitting .301. There was no Home Run Derby that year, either, because almost nobody could hit one, nobody cared about hitting one or the players simply quit trying. The hey-day of Home Run Derby was in the 1950s when baseball giants like Willie Mays, Hank Aaron, Mickey Mantle, Al Kaline, and several other heavy hitters hit heavily. I am old enough to remember some of those old Home Run Derby contests, mostly because they put me to sleep. As I recall the derby was held in some rickety-looking minor league ballpark somewhere in California. There would be two contestants, usually two of the biggest stars of the game, a master of ceremonies, and a couple of kids out in the outfield shagging fly balls that failed to sail over the fence. The atmosphere almost literally could put you to sleep. There was a cheesy host, who sat at a desk not too far from home plate, and the slugger not slugging at the moment sat next to the host as the other contestant tried to hit as many balls over the fence as he could. The only noises were the baseballs coming off the bat after each swing. The hitter who was not hitting would sit at this cheesy desk with the host and make small talk while the hitter at home plate would spend five or six minutes grunting his way to futility. There were no spectators at all, which only added to the creepy vibe of the whole program. The hitters and the host clearly didn't know each other, so they attempted to make small talk while the other hitter groaned as most of his long balls rattled off the wall. The hitter who was not hitting sat next to the host trying to crack lame jokes at the other slugger, who was in the batter's box groping, grunting and hoping to knock one or two balls out of the park in order to save face. Not many balls cleared the fence, which only added to the non-home-run-derby-ness of the whole enterprise. I am sure the sluggers went home discouraged about not being able to clear the fences more than just a few times. But this was beginners TV. Not even the big names who would come trooping up to home plate could generate any kind of electricity. Certainly having the two sluggers alone, taking turns at taking their cuts at home plate did nothing to create any excitement. The whole production was 30 minutes of yawns. Granted, it was infancy TV. But not even the biggest names in the game could generate any excitement. At least the kind of excitement the current iteration of Home Run Derby promotes. If anything, the modern day derby is even louder than anything the show did in the 1950s. Today's Home Run Derby is nothing beyond testosterone practice. The modern-day big guns show up, take their swings, strut their stuff, walk the walk and then check with their agents to get a feel for which teams today will be home base for the stars of tomorrow. It's all baseball show business now, and it should be. The salaries alone tell the customers that. There is also nothing wrong with that. Home Run Derby from 50 years ago is nothing like what it is today, and it shouldn't be. Today's stars think they are just as big and important as they were decades ago, and maybe they are, or maybe they aren't. Does it even really matter? Contact Jim Ingraham at jingraham4@gmail.com.